Gemotions

The oak crashed with a roar, the sound rattling Amelia’s teacups in their cabinet. She stared out the window, a tremor running through her. The branches had pinned Mrs. Gable’s shed, a mangled mess of wood and shingles. A tightness settled in Amelia's chest, a feeling she couldn't quite name. She picked up the phone, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. "Hello, George? Could you… could you come over? Mrs. Gable's tree..." Her voice trailed off, a hesitant whisper. She felt a familiar hollowness blooming in her stomach, a sensation of helplessness.